


Peace of Mind

by AlabasterChambers



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe, Child Abuse, Family Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:54:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23446582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlabasterChambers/pseuds/AlabasterChambers
Summary: Peter Parker does not have powers, his aunt died instead of his uncle, and he is a neglected kid trying to survive in his first year of high school. Meanwhile Tony Stark is in the midst of handling the fallout of the events in Segovia. Winning a real scholarship offered by Stark Industries, Peter finds his life is about to change. Eventual adoption of a sort.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

Eyes fluttering open Peter groaned, wishing the light streaming in through his broken blinds would go away. He shoved his head into his pillow and ignored the faintly musty urine smell that lingered in the cloth despite the many times he had thrown it in one of the seventy five cent washers at Lee's Laundromat Emporium.

The next moment his alarm clock went off, a clunky little thing he'd inherited from the previous owners of the apartment after Uncle Ben had moved them in following Aunt May's death. The cracked screen flashed the time in neon green.

Peter groaned, sitting up and ignoring the twinge of pain in his stomach. The organ let out a plaintive gurgle and Peter absent-mindedly rubbed his tummy.

Uncle Ben would be gone by now. Most kids would probably love that, having the house to themselves, but for Peter it made something in him writhe with disappointment. Things had been different since May had passed away two years ago.

Rubbing at his eyes, Peter threw his hand out, fumbling around to find his glasses. When he felt them, he pulled them open and haphazardly shoved them on his face.

The world came into view. It was a dirty studio apartment, water damage threatening the southwest corner of the room where a little kitchenette stood in all of its bleak glory. Only one burner had ever worked since they had moved in and it was seldom used. Uncle Ben generally only ever ate takeout.

Peter stood up from his nest of bedding on the floor, stretching out. Beside him was the coffee table they had brought with them from the house when they had moved, a squat thick oak piece which had been a wedding gift to the Parkers. It was the only item Uncle Ben hadn't sold off. Just beyond it was the couch, rescued from a dumpster.

There wasn't much else in the apartment: a broken kitchen table with three mismatched chairs and a clunky tv from the early 2000s seated on a small nightstand. They didn't have much.

Peter proceeded to carefully fold his comforter, though it was stained and ratty. He tucked his paper thin pillow in the middle before setting it in his corner. He kept his backpack there and two garbage bags which he used for keeping dirty and clean laundry, exclusively.

He felt like he had a pretty good system for everything.

He changed, pulling on an oversized Mets' sweater, faded and worn by time and wear. His jeans were a little small, coming up to his ankles and he had to dig around in the dirty bag for a pair of used and mismatched socks.

He headed to the bathroom, stepping around his uncle's pile of dirty laundry on the floor and glancing up at the bathroom mirror. A thirteen year old boy stared back, face thin and slightly gaunt, still terribly boyish and not nearly old enough by Peter's opinion. His image was distorted by the warped surface and rust creeping along the areas where the top layer had been scraped away.

He pulled his toothbrush out and halfheartedly dry brushed, meanwhile pushing at his curls, stiff and oily from not having showered for the last four days. Their water had been turned off, and honestly, Peter often forgot.

Spitting in the sink, Peter briefly turned the faucet on for some water, one hand cupping it to bring to his mouth to swish and spit.

Sniffing, Peter's eyes were once again drawn to the mirror. He wasn't a handsome youth, too small and nerdy. He had asthma, a poor immune system, and an incredible ability to aggravate every bully in his school. His uncle, when he noticed Peter's existence, reminded him of his lackluster qualities.

Peter's stomach made another angry grumble.

"I know, I know," Peter mumbled under his breath, patting the suffering organ.

The free food program at school changed going from middle school to high school, the free breakfast being cut out and lunch being the only meal prepared and served. It was generally the only meal Peter could look forward to for the day, unless he visited Mrs. Popova and scored some stale cookies she always kept in a jar. Uncle Ben usually forgot him.

Padding his way out of the bathroom, Peter glanced at the blinds, considered attempting to pull them down, but decided against it. He usually always lost that battle. He grabbed his only pair of shoes, ones he'd scored from a free bin, and tugged them on. They were a size too big and to deal with this problem he had stuffed cardboard and newspaper in the toes.

Slinging his backpack over his shoulders, knees and back groaning in protest at the load of textbooks in it, he headed to the entryway. He grabbed his key from off the coffee table and was soon out the door.

The brisk chill of mid-October weather bit through his sweater, immediately making him start shivering.

The walk to school was brisk, the load of books biting into his shoulders, and soon enough he had worked up a light sweat. Arriving at the front, he glanced up at the modern structure and the practical sign containing the school's name.

Midway High was just one of many schools peppering the city. Its only distinguishing feature was a remarkable science program, one, of course, funded by Stark Industries.

Huffing, Peter mounted the steps just as the warning bell sounded. Once inside, he tried to maneuver through the crowds of students milling about and those that were actually headed toward class.

Someone bumped into him and he nearly lost his footing, causing him to fall into someone. He mumbled an apology, looking over at the tall girl scowling down at him.

Peter apologized again, flushing with embarrassment. Her face softened a little.

"Peter, right?" she asked.

Peter vigorously nodded his head, surprised anyone knew his name.

"MJ," she said, eyes roving over him with a pensive gaze.

Peter blushed a deeper red as he saw the way her eyes lingered on his ankles which were exposed by his too short jeans.

"You're smart," she stated.

Peter wanted to face palm for once again blushing a deep red.

"Y-ye-I-I guess," he sighed slightly at the end, frustrated at how words always seemed so slippery.

He could form what he wanted to say in his brain just fine, but getting it out in a comprehensive way was nigh impossible sometimes.

She tilted her head, squinting as she considered him, "Anyways, I'm going to get to class."

Peter froze, trying to think of something to say in response.

She smiled a little, frowning just a bit at how flustered Peter was.

"Oh! Yeah, that, class, yeah-you-we should-probably…" Peter trailed off as she disappeared into the quickly thinning crowd.

Looking at the clock, he was startled to realize that he only had a few minutes. He ran, bursting into the classroom just to see that his normal seat in the far back had been taken by a large quantity of boxes for printing paper. In fact the entire last row had been occupied forcing several students forward.

Peter desperately looked for a seat apart from a classmate. However, the only open seats were the one next to Flash and one next to a Filipino boy whom Peter didn't really know. It wasn't difficult weighing the options and seconds later he was sliding into the seat next to the boy.

The kid side glanced at him nervously.

"Hey," he greeted.

Peter froze, not used to his peers paying any attention to him except to complain that he smelled or, to join in with Eugene "Flash" Thompson in making Peter's high school experience a living hell.

The kid side glanced at him again, he was fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

"I'm Ned," he stage whispered.

Peter waited for an insult to come from his classmate, usually someone would say something about him smelling.

"P-peter," he whispered back, finally looking over at Ned.

The guy looked nervous, but his face was kind and friendly, and he hadn't ignored or been mean to Peter.

"Hi, Peter," Ned whispered back.

The teacher hadn't walked in yet and the whole class was talking at full volume.

A beat passed.

"I-um- I- your shirt is cool," Peter whispered, eyeing Ned's graphic tee. It showed the Millenium Falcon.

It was the right thing to say because Ned's face lit up.

"The second episode is my favorite."

Excitement flooded through Peter. That was his favorite episode too! Since starting high school he hadn't made any friends, not to say that middle school had been much better. A tentative hope was blooming that Ned could possibly become one.

"It's mine too," Peter replied, a wide smile spread across his face.

Ned's grin spread further and the two shared a congenial look. Ned opened his mouth -about to say something- when the door swung open.

Mrs. Pritchard stepped in. The chatter died down.

"Morning everybody, sorry about the mess in the back, Principal Rubios is having the records room refurbished and I am afraid everyone is pitching in a bit of space for the next week."

There was a roll of murmurs, but nothing too exciting.

Mrs. Pritchard was the advanced secondary algebra teacher. She was relatively young, always wearing her hair in a messy bun and sporting math themed shirts or skirts. She was a favorite of the freshman class.

"Alright," she clapped her hands together, smiling at her students, "today we'll be learning about radical expressions, and, if you're lucky, we will touch on imaginary numbers and a few geometric interpretations. But first-"

She stepped over to her desk, shuffling through a few papers before grabbing her laptop and flipping it open. She tapped away at the keys, preoccupied.

"My favorite part is when Luke loses his hand," Ned whispered.

Peter nodded his head, that was definitely one of the best parts of the movie.

Mrs. Pritchard let out a 'hmm'.

"Daily announcements: the science fair is coming up in November, the 26th, and I believe that you'll need to have submitted your project proposal by the end of next week to Mr. Henning."

She clicked her tongue, scrolling through her email.

"The Homecoming dance is October 30th, tickets go on sale the week before. Ummm, let's see, oh, the last day for the Stark internship application is today. There are a few of you whose applications I am still waiting on."

She sent Peter a significant glance. Peter ducked his head, shoulders rising. Mrs. Pritchard had spoken to him a couple weeks ago about it, prompting him to put in his application.

Ever since she'd seen him scratching out some rudimentary code in machine language on a piece of paper during class she'd taken to prompting him to join STEM oriented clubs or to apply for things like the Stark scholarship. Peter thought it was nice that she was trying to help, but he wasn't sure he was good enough to be doing any of those things.

"Otherwise, I believe that's everything. Why don't we jump right into the content? I'll bore you to death with a powerpoint, but after that we'll roll up our sleeves and get some real work done."

She continued, bringing up the powerpoint. Notebooks flipped open and the scratching of pencils against paper could be heard as the lesson commenced.

"Man, an internship with Ironman, that would be amazing," Ned whispered.

Peter nodded his head vigorously. Tony Stark was one of the coolest people in the world. He literally had saved the planet and had done it all with the power of his mind, building and creating some of the most amazing things.

"Did you put in an application?" Ned asked.

Peter shook his head, glancing down at his hands. The idea of even submitting an application was too crazy, he would never be chosen, he wasn't good enough, didn't have the right experience. Just thinking about it was nerve-wracking.

"What?!" Ned whisper-shouted, "but you're so smart! I've seen your grades and Mr. Henning raves about how good you are in chemistry."

Peter shrunk under the compliments, eyes widening. Did Mr. Henning really talk about him doing well? A smile grew on his face and he glanced at Ned to judge the boy's honesty. Ned was looking in all earnestness at him.

"I-I don't know," Peter replied with a shrug.

"Dude, you should totally apply! In fact I could even-"

"What is so interesting Mr. Leeds?" Mrs. Prtichard cut in.

She had stopped her lecture and was looking at the two with all the reprimand of a teacher.

There was a series of titters and laughs throughout the room. Ned flushed.

"Nothing, Mrs. Pritchard," he mumbled.

She raised a brow before returning to the lesson. A couple moments passed before Ned leaned in, facing forward and comically attempting to be discreet.

"We'll talk later," he whispered.

Peter nodded, eyes wide with excitement, before he turned back to the lesson.

The lesson ended and everyone stood up, preparing to leave and get to their next class. Ned turned to Peter when they got into the hallway.

"I'll help you apply," he said, "we can get lunch together and I'll bring my laptop."

Peter felt elation fill him. Adjusting his hands that were gripped on his back pack handles he nodded his head.

"Y-yeah, that would be great, yeah," he replied, smiling widely.

Ned smiled back looking just as excited. The two started to turn when Peter suddenly remembered that he didn't know where to meet Ned.

"Wait, where?" he called.

"In front of the library!"

Peter's alarm left and a smile grew. He watched Ned disappear into the crowd and was happy he'd found such a nice person who also liked Star Wars.

Something slammed into his shoulder sending him sprawling to the ground. The breath was knocked out of him. Blinking, he looked up to see Flash standing over him with a cruel look of amusement on his face.

"What's up Penis Parker," he shot out, walking on and leaving Peter on the ground.

Peter stood up, catching the looks people were sending his way. He lowered his gaze to the ground and hunched his shoulders, embarrassment and frustration filling him. He headed toward his next class wishing Flash would just leave him alone.

* * *

Time didn't pass fast enough, but after an excruciating two hours, lunch finally came. Peter raced to the library just to find that Ned was already waiting for him. It made a smile break out across his face, one he couldn't contain.

"Did you wait long?" Peter asked with concern.

Ned was grinning as well and shook his head 'no'.

"So, I figured we could just fill the stuff out online real quick. I already told Mr. Henning and he agreed to write you a recommendation, and I asked Mrs. Pritchard and it seems she already wrote one for you and is just waiting to submit it."

Peter followed Ned into the library, listening to him speak the whole time. It amazed Peter about how excited Ned was about this. He watched as Ned seated himself at the computer, still chattering on, this time about C++ and how he was writing a code for his science fair project.

The application website came up, the clean streamlined design of Stark Industries' logo in the corner of the page. Peter watched as Ned began to fill out all of the information.

"W-wait, aren't you-" Peter fell short as Ned stopped and looked at him.

Peter flushed with embarrassment and wrapped his arms around his middle, head ducking down.

"Aren't I what?" Ned asked, oblivious.

Peter shrugged his shoulder.

"Well, aren't you applying?" Peter asked in a small voice.

"I already did!" Ned replied, smiling.

"Bu-but why do you want me to apply?" Peter asked, absolutely confused.

"Because it's like, the coolest thing ever!" Ned replied, it now being his turn to be confused.

Peter struggled to respond, but Ned had already turned back to his work. Within a few minutes the application was filled out and Ned was submitting it.

Peter was astounded that Ned was willing to help out someone who was, in simple terms, a rival. Adding one more person to the pool of applicants only decreased Ned's chance at getting the scholarship. So why was he doing this?

The rest of the day passed reasonably well, Peter still in shock at having found a friend. Him and Ned talked about their favorite shows and movies and comics, about science and their favorite programming platforms and about how Batman and Superman were great, but Aquaman was kind of the best. Peter didn't realize someone else who liked all the same things as him could exist in the world.

They parted ways after school, Ned having to take the bus home while Peter began his walk back.

It was slightly warmer than it had been this morning, the weak sunshine having made some impact. Peter however was still chilled. He had learned by now that there wasn't much he could do about it and it quickly slipped to the back of his mind.

Today he was buzzing with energy from the excitement of having found a new friend and having applied for the Stark internship.

He wanted to tell someone, or anyone really. Uncle Ben passed momentarily in his mind. He dimmed as he thought about exactly how his uncle would respond.

Sniffing, he rubbed at his nose and shook his head, trying to get away from those thoughts. Today had been awesome.

It hit him who he should go see. Glancing up to see what street he was on, Peter dodged across the street and took a left at the block.

Mrs. Popova lived just a couple blocks away from him and she was always home and always welcomed company.

A smile returned to his face and he was so caught up that he barely noticed a new sound.

It sounded off again and Peter recognized it as being a cat. Looking up at the source of the noise he saw a thin, black cat meowing, it's figure slightly occluded by the leaves from the tree it had gotten itself stuck in.

"How'd you get up there little guy?" Peter asked.

The cat turned to look at him, large luminous green eyes blinking once. It meowed again, loudly.

Thinking a moment, Peter began to take his backpack off. He set it against the trunk and took a step back to assess the tree's climability.

It was an old cherry, roots having brought up some of the sidewalk. It had a few low branches that looked sturdy enough and soon Peter was awkwardly hauling himself into the greenery.

When he was on the same branch as the cat he held a hand out to the creature. It had stopped meowing and was looking at him.

"My name's Peter, what's yours?"

It cocked its head and blinked. Peter smiled.

"I know, I bet you're called Misha."

It sniffed his hand, but didn't do much else.

"Alright buddy, I just need to get you down from here."

Peter unzipped his sweater and inched a little closer to the animal.

He held a hand out again, this time making an effort to grab the cat.

"It won't be so bad," he reassured.

Finally getting a good hold on the cat, he pulled it closer to him and tucked it into his sweater. He began his descent, extra careful of his passenger. At the last branch he miscalculated his footing and fell.

It wasn't a very large drop but he landed on his back and had the air knocked out of him

Blinking his gaze into focus he realized that the mostly docile creature had not enjoyed that part of the journey and was now meowing loudly.

"Sorry about that," he apologized.

Peter unzipped his jacket. The creature immediately clawed its way out and he watched it scramble away and zip down the street.

Smiling forlornly he waved after its disappearing figure. He seized his backpack and continued his journey anew.

* * *

He made it Mrs. Popova's without further incident. She lived in an apartment building, one Peter knew the code to. It was a large, older brick building with narrow halls and tiny rooms. She lived on the fifth floor.

He mounted the stairs, out of breath by the time he reached the top.

Knocking on her door he waited until the door swung open.

"Petya! It is such long time, why you don't see me more?"

She was quite old, a frail bundle of bones brought to life by two sharp, crystal blue eyes. Her hair was a stark white, still curled, and had once been a vibrant red.

She ushered him in.

Peter set his backpack down and started his usual routine of helping wash her dishes and clean the things she couldn't manage. Meanwhile she sat at the kitchen table and listened to him talk about his day, every so often insisting he have a cookie from the cookie jar.

A couple hours passed and Peter knew he needed to go home. Mrs. Popova noticed him eyeing the clock.

"Ah, go on home little Petya, I am sure they must miss you."

Peter smiled wanly, thinking about his uncle.

"Thank you Mrs. Popova."

Peter left, the street outside now slightly dark, bathed in twilight. It was much colder now and as soon as he stepped out he started shivering. He hurried home.

He opened the door to his apartment and stepped in. The tv was on and Uncle Ben was seated on the couch. A couple empty takeout cartons sat on the counter. Peter, as quietly as he could, tiptoed to his corner, setting his backpack down and headed to the bathroom.

Inside he let out a deep breath, hands trembling from exhaustion. He looked in the mirror and felt an insurmountable weight settle on his shoulders.

He shook his head choosing to focus on the day he had had. A small smile tugged determinedly onto his face.

* * *

"Look, I don't even- I don't understand why this," Tony flapped his hand, indicating the figurative space around him, "is even necessary!"

Pepper stood by, arms folded and a look of exasperation on her face.

"Tony-" she started.

"No! No, this is just, stupid," Tony bowled over her, "I don't have time for this. Why-why do I have to play their games, jump through their hoops, it's been six months."

Pepper let out a sigh and rubbed her forehead.

"It's because it's been six months, and Tony, we need this. A little good press, something not about Segovia, would be exactly what the company needs right now."

Tony let out a sigh and shook his head, eyes rolling.

"And maybe this is just what you need," Pepper added in a softer tone.

Tony continued to stare at the wall, ignoring Pepper's appeals.

"You already agreed to this Tony, you can't avoid it."

Tony huffed, moving over to the bar and beginning to prepare himself a drink. Pepper followed.

"At least look at the names?"

Tony sighed, turning around with his glass in hand. He met Pepper's imploring look. He dropped his head, fingers massaging his eyes.

"Fine," he answered begrudgingly.

Pepper smiled, walking over with her ever present Ipad in hand.

"But," Tony held up a hand, "but, you have to help."

"Help?" Pepper asked incredulously.

Tony grinned, turning back to the bar and starting to prepare another drink.

"An hour -or so- break with me-"

"But Tony-"

"Ah, ah," Tony interrupted, pressing the glass into her hand.

He gave her a look, mischievous and every bit as charming as always.

"Just for an hour."

Pepper caved. Grabbing the glass she held it up. Grinning, Tony clinked his against hers.

"To teenage monsters!"

"Tony," Pepper reprimanded.

Tony chuckled, attention already on something else. He snatched the tablet out of her hand and went over to the couch. He flopped onto it unceremoniously and began messing around the with tablet. Pepper followed.

"It's that app," she said.

"I know," Tony retorted, glancing over his shoulder at where Pepper was standing.

Pepper gracefully seated herself on the couch, scooting up to Tony to be able to see what he was doing. Tony positioned himself so she could see better.

He'd pulled up the files of the many, many candidates. The internship was offered only to the New York city area and yet there were over several thousand applications.

"Ooh, look at this, Jonathan Proust, plays violin, piano and the, oh, nice, trombone," Tony looked over at Pepper, glee in his eyes.

Pepper gave him a look and he dropped it for then, turning his attention back to the list.

"How am I supposed to pick? There's so many of them! I'm sure they are all smart little cookies deserving of access to my labs."

"C'mon Tony, take this at least slightly seriously."

"Fine, fine," Tony said.

Scrolling through the list of names, hundreds of high schoolers were shown. They varied in everything, from skin color to height to names to backgrounds. Each one had credentials that would merit being brought into Tony's lab and given his tuition. All of them were brilliant. But the question was if they were brilliant enough.

The thought of having to deal with and handle a teenager, probably pimply, full of hero worship and not nearly smart enough to be messing with Tony's things, was honestly the most boring and painful sounding thing Tony could think up. The only reason he'd ever agreed to it back in July was to humor and appease Pepper. Within that time he had forgotten all about it.

Even now, on the couch, he was merely trying to get her to relax. After so long had passed, Pepper taking the search much more seriously than Tony had, she nodded off. Tony, who had adjusted their positions at some point, was running his fingers through her hair, his drink half gone and forgotten, alongside Pepper's empty glass, on the coffee table.

He wasn't looking at the list anymore, attention on Pepper.

She was totally going to expect him to have made a choice by the morning. Tony sighed and took up the Ipad. Bored, he began making a simple randomization code. Once finished, he ran the humongous list of students through it.

A name flashed up: Eugene Thompson.

Tony's face crinkled with disgust. What kind of name was Eugene? No protege of his could have a name like Eugene Thompson. Besides, Tony reasoned, he looked more squirrely than the usual high school boy. Probably brought lunch to school in a Buzz Lightyear lunch box with a note from Mommy telling him to have a good day.

He ran the program again. This time it gave him a different name: Peter Parker. Tony shrugged, finishing the selection process and leaving it so Pepper would know who he chose. Setting the Ipad to the side he leaned his head back against the couch, ready to fall asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The large conference room was crowded with people, every chair was filled and at the edges reporters, politicians and others eagerly watched the proceedings.

It wasn't a trial, at least officially. Tony knew otherwise.

It was a question and answer session, an ability for people to contend or request Stark Industries, and, so to speak "present concerns and interests".

You drop a couple billion tons of earth on a small country and suddenly you spend the rest of your life trying to make amends. It didn't help that Tony held himself wholly responsible. Ever present nightmares had shifted from invading aliens and psychotic gods to machine puppets and the millions who had suffered.

In perpetual crisis, Tony was trying to make things right.

Today it was a business owner from Segovia. Daniel Malkin, a Canadian born foreigner who had swooped into Segovia following the collapse of the USSR and claimed a large quantity of land which contained huge deposits of apatite based on some rather suspect government ties.

He had gone from millionaire to practically penniless overnight as the mine had completely collapsed. Tony couldn't give a rat's ass about Daniel Malkin and his lost fortune, but unfortunately though, the impact of his lost business was rather more serious.

"The main point is that the loss of the apatite mines in Segovia has created not only enormous economic deficit but also is lending to the skyrocketing prices of product in Segovia. We have already quoted statistics, we have already discussed the political nuances to making amendments, but we still haven't made any real progress."

Daniel Malkin's small posse of lawyers had been yapping away for the last two hours. They had spat out statistics, numbers, dates. They had talked, much too long in Tony's opinion, about what apatite was used for, major local producers of animal feed supplements and the local farmers having greatly benefited from the business. Of course they failed to mention that about seventy percent of their product was exported to China or the US for acid and chemical production. And that a majority of their workers were foreign.

"Segovia is receiving support, food, water, medicine, construction. Stark Industries is there. You see my people, mine, out there providing that support," Tony replied.

He was sick and tired of this.

"You talk like you are a philanthropist Mr. Stark, but who is to blame for this entire event in the first place?"

Tony hated the vindictive voice in his head which told him that they weren't wrong.

"And every possible effort is being put into helping Segovia recover, as we speak I am working with the UN to help pass legislation that will protect the world from events like what just happened."

A clamor burst out among the crowd, very little was known about the group of international laws currently being created regarding so called "super heroes" and it was a much hotter topic than an apatite mine.

Tony felt Pepper's hand on his shoulder and he winced, knowing that the Segovian Accords were something he wasn't supposed to be talking about. As the noise grew and more questions were asked about the Accords, Tony felt his brain wanting to explode. He hated this, he hated it all.

Then suddenly there was a booming voice.

"ENOUGH!"

The conference room fell into silence and all heads turned to Daniel Malkin.

The man, middle aged and average looking, had stood. His blue eyes were darkened with anger and fists were clenched.

"25,000," he said.

The room was held in rapt quiet.

"That's how many people died. In one day."

He looked to Stark and held his gaze, fury burning in his eyes.

"23,000 have died since then. Not because of driving accidents, not because of heart attacks or old age. They have died because of what happened. Thirty two percent of these deaths have been attributed to starvation."

He paused a moment, finally breaking eye contact with Stark to look about the room.

"My people are dying! My apatite mines helped create fertilizer for the farms of Segovia, it helped feed the animals for Segovia. My wife, a Segovian, died. And all you can tell me is that you're giving support. I am sick of Stark Industries."

He turned on his heel and walked out of the conference room leaving the rest of the room to break out into louder noise.

Tony looked around, head buzzing with guilt and the sensation that his chest was being crushed. Shaking his head, he fumbled out of his chair. Pepper's hand was on his elbow in a moment, guiding him out of the room.

* * *

Peter woke up shivering. He groaned, blinking his eyes open. The heater must have gone out again. He shoved his glasses onto his face before groggily getting up. He made his way over to the bulky and very outdated wall heater next to the entryway. Rubbing at his eyes he glared mulishly at the old thing.

He opened the venting. Bumbling a little, he grabbed one of the kitchen chairs and dragged it over. It didn't take much to fix. Once he was finished, he looked at the time. He had an extra twenty minutes.

His uncle shifted on the couch. Peter froze, scared. Today his uncle didn't have work, which meant he hadn't left at four in the morning like usual. He didn't take kindly to being woken up early.

He shifted again on the couch and Peter watched with a sinking heart as the covers flipped over and his uncle rose.

Uncle Ben was tall and muscular from years of working construction sites. He wasn't bulky by any means, but he was strong. When Peter had been younger, his uncle had been a figure of protection and safety. He had always been one of the kindest and soft-spoken people Peter knew. After Aunt May had passed though, he had changed.

Peter missed his aunt, but in some ways, he missed his uncle more.

The tall, lean, silver haired man barely spared Peter a glance as he moved toward the kitchenette. Peter eyed Ben as he put a small pot of coffee on and leaned back against the counter.

Peter started to tiptoe back over to his spot in the corner to start getting ready.

"You fix it?"

Ben's voice was rough from sleep. Peter froze, cringing and hunching his shoulders as he turned around. He gave a half nod, not looking at his uncle.

"Good."

And that was it. Uncle Ben put his coffee in a thermos and then dressed, leaving the apartment within five minutes. Peter himself got ready.

With his backpack on and the key in hand, he glanced back at the kitchenette where an empty bottle of Old Overholt whiskey sat, one which had been emptied yesterday. Peter knew, with a pall of bitterness unnatural to his character, exactly why his uncle had gone out. It hurt more though to know that his uncle found it easier to handle his grief with something like that.

* * *

Peter hadn't been expecting it, but Ned was waiting for him at the front of the steps. Peter's new friend was practically bouncing with excitement. Peter came up the steps and Ned burst.

"You'll never guess what happened!"

"What?" Peter asked, a little anxious at Ned's intensity. It made him worry that something bad had occurred.

"They're gonna announce the Stark Internship winner today! It wasn't supposed to happen for another two months but I guess Mr. Stark decided someone was just that awesome!"

"What!? That's- that's-" Peter was speechless.

"Amazing!" Ned finished.

Peter numbly nodded. He followed Ned to first class, listening to him continue to talk about all the cool things the winner would get to do with Tony Stark. They might even be able to fly one of the Iron Man suits. Peter could say nothing, but a ball of tension formed in his stomach. He already knew he hadn't been picked, there was no doubt about that. Mr. Stark had probably taken one look at his profile- no, not even his profile, just his name, and decided that Peter would be a terrible intern.

Despite that though, a tiny part of Peter wished with all his heart that he had been picked.

The first hour of classes couldn't go fast enough and when second hour finally came, both Peter and Ned were buzzing with excitement. Stepping into the classroom they sat down, both exchanging looks of anxious expectation.

Mrs. Pritchard was at her laptop as usual going through emails. When everyone was seated and the bell rang, she finally looked up.

"Alright, now I know some of you were applicants to the Stark Internship. Astonishingly the selection process has already been made."

Peter sat there, tense as a cord. Ned snagged his hand and squeezed it tightly. Peter squeezed back. He knew it wouldn't happen, but he wanted this so bad. But Mr. Stark wouldn't pick Peter, he probably wouldn't even choose someone from this class let alone from this school or-

"And the winner is a student from our high school."

There was a collective gasp in the room. Even the kids who weren't science and math enthusiasts knew who Tony Stark was, who didn't? He was one of the most revered personas in the world.

Mrs. Pritchard smiled before turning to look right at Peter.

"Someone from our very own classroom."

Peter felt the tension rise, his stomach doing flip-flops. Ned's grip tightened.

"Mr. Peter Parker was selected."

The class burst out into clapping, Ned squealing in delight before tugging Peter into a giant hug. Peter barely noticed; his brain having gone blank. Mrs. Pritchard was talking, trying to get the class to calm down.

By the time everyone was quiet Ned had pulled away and Mrs. Pritchard was handing him a paper.

"You'll start tomorrow, it is astonishing, but I guess Mr. Stark is really excited to start working with you, Peter. This has the address and how to get there, and all the rest of the information you need to show when you arrive at Stark Tower. Good job Peter, you deserve it."

Peter stared down at the paper, still unable to process what had happened. The rest of the class passed with him in the same daze, a giddy grin on his face. He, Peter Parker, had been picked by Tony Stark. The idea was too wild to believe.

Second period finished and Ned promised to meet Peter again, this time at his classroom. Peter also barely paid attention in class. Usually he was very attentive, but after the announcement he had just stopped.

It wasn't until the third period had passed and he was walking with Ned to the cafeteria that the fog in his brain started to clear.

"I'm glad you won Peter," Ned said, smiling brightly at him.

"But I thought you wanted the internship?" Peter asked.

As excited as he was about getting the internship, he was also worried that it meant that Ned might not want to be his friend. Ned shrugged.

"I mean, it would have been cool, and I did want it, but I'm really glad you got it and now I'm friends with probably the coolest person in high school right now."

Peter flushed at the praise, even as he eyed Ned for a hint of deception. Ned however was genuinely happy. Aside from a little bit of disappointment, he was excited and there was no anger there. It confused Peter, but he was starting to believe that Ned just wasn't a mean or jealous person.

When they got to the cafeteria Peter could feel the stares of the people around him. Tony Stark was famous and Peter was now going to be able to hang out with him. He flushed, uncomfortable with the attention. Ned and him got their food and went over to a table.

Sitting down, Ned started talking again, this time going into detail about all the crazy monster robots Tony Stark probably kept in his lab and how Peter would get to see them. It wasn't until Peter was just finishing the last of his peas that the subject changed.

"Oh, I forgot! I just got this Death Star Lego set and I was thinking we could build it together. Today, if you want," Ned was looking over at Peter with nervous hope.

"The Death Star set!? You mean the- "

"4,0016-piece set? Yes."

"Bu-but that is impossible to get, it's like-the coolest-and-," Peter stopped, wide eyed as he stared up at Ned and realized that Ned actually wanted him, Peter, to spend time at his house.

"Really?" he asked, voice a little hoarse as it caught with emotion.

Ned nodded his head.

"Okay!" Peter agreed, knowing his uncle wouldn't miss him and that there was no way he would miss out on building the Death Star.

The two stood up, both having finished eating.

"Yeah, and my mom is making lumpia tonight for dinner and I figured, if you wanted, you could stay for that," Ned said, the two making their way over to the trash cans and tray bin.

"Besides, she's always telling me to bring friends over."

"What's lumpia?" Peter asked, curious.

"Well," Ned started, scrapping the remains of his lunch into the garbage and setting his tray in the bin, "it is kinda like an eggroll, but not, and it is way better."

Peter took care of his own tray and the two started to walk out.

"What do you mean? Does it have something diff- "

Something, or rather someone, slammed into Peter and sent him to the floor. He hit hard, the movement causing his glasses to fall off and skitter away from him. Peter turned to look at his aggressor. It was Flash Thompson, the student from this distance still discernible despite the general colored blur that encompassed Peter's vision when he wasn't able to wear his glasses.

"You think you're so great don't you Parker!" Flash shouted.

He looked mad and Peter couldn't think of why.

"I-I-I- "

"What!? I-I-I-, you're a retard, why would Tony Stark have chosen you!" Flash shouted, kicking out and catching Peter in the ribs.

Peter cried out in pain.

"Hey, back off Flash," Ned tried to weakly intervene.

"Stay out of this fat boy, no one wants to hear you talk!"

Ned's shoulders curled at the attack, but he didn't leave.

"Why did you get the internship when I deserved it!?" Flash shouted, kicking Peter again.

Peter curled up, head hidden by his arms, and prepared for the worst.

"Maybe because you're a crybaby Eugene."

That was a new voice, but one that was familiar. Peter recognized it as M.J.

"Shut up, emo!"

"C'mon Flash, you're not being cool."

It was another voice, a girl that Peter knew to be Liz, the class president.

"Whatever!" Flash spat out.

Peter heard footsteps and the suddenly silent cafeteria burst into noise again. A hand prodded at Peter and he finally came undone from his curled-up position. Ned was kneeling by him and a slender hand was right next to his face holding his glasses.

"You'll need these."

Peter grabbed his glasses and put them on. It was M.J. who had been holding them. She was crouched down next to him.

"Are you okay Peter?" Ned asked.

Peter nodded; face flushed with embarrassment. M.J. was frowning, but she didn't look mad.

"Glad you're okay," she said, before standing up from her crouch and moving away.

Peter watched her go, accepting help from Ned to get back on his feet.

"That was super not cool," Ned said quietly, looking in concern at Peter, "are you sure you're alright?"

Peter nodded. Flash had only kicked him twice.

"Well, lunch is almost over, but we can go to my house right after school, you can take the bus with me."

Peter nodded his assent and the two parted ways.

* * *

The two met up right after school and Peter joined Ned on the bus. The ride wasn't bad, the two spending the entire time talking about Star Wars.

Ned lived at a little two story house smashed next to a bunch of other little two stories. It was nice and homey, the yard well taken care of and painted a soft blue. It reminded Peter of before, when things had been good and Aunt May had been alive.

Ned's mom was just as nice, a part-time hard working filipino mom. She insisted they eat and shoved some purple paste filled pastry at him and at Ned before ushering them upstairs with the demand that they eat more if they needed. Ned was impatient and when they finally got upstairs let out a sigh of relief.

Both boys' gazes zeroed in on the glossy cardboard box that sat on Ned's desk. In person, it was even more amazing than Peter had imagined. The two tore into it. They spent a good thirty minutes just organizing the pieces into separate piles. They had only gotten a small way through when Ned's mom called them both down to dinner.

Peter had no idea what the food was, but it smelled delicious and the rest of Ned's family had congregated around the table of food. Peter was confused as it ended up being more like a potluck, the table just holding the food while Ned's older sister, a college student, grabbed a plate and headed to her room. Ned's dad and mom settled on the couch in the front room with Ned's little brother and a couple cousins who had come over to watch a football game and Ned's aunt had apparently come for a visit and was out in the backyard with her husband and baby, they had been joined by another family member.

It was a sort of happy chaos which Peter had never experienced. Even when things had been good, it had always been quiet. He loved Ned's house.

It was around eight when Ned's mom finally came up and said she was going to drive Peter home. Ned complained, but all the same, Peter had to go.

Dropped off, Peter headed upstairs. His uncle was asleep already and he tiptoed around, getting ready for bed.

He went to bed that night excited for the next day.

* * *

The next day didn't pass fast enough, all Peter had been able to think about was the Stark Internship. The hours however seemed to drag by, even the lunch time with Ned was hard to get through. Finally, the day ended though and he was free.

He had already planned it all out. With his student ID he could catch the thirty-two to downtown and then walk half a mile the rest of the way there. The internship was from four in the afternoon until six thirty. He would catch the eleven at six forty-seven and then transfer to the eighteen and be home by just a little past seven thirty.

Thrumming with excitement he bid Ned farewell and practically ran to the bus stop. The ride didn't seem to go fast enough.

He jumped off the bus at his stop and nearly jogged, the massive Stark Tower guiding him closer. Finally, he came to stand outside the sleek borderless glass sliding doors. Eyes wide with awe he stepped through.

The lobby was massive, only a small amount of traffic making its way around. Peter approached the front desk where an almost robotically perfect looking woman sat.

"Um, hello?" he hazarded.

She looked up from her computer and gave him a small smile.

"I-I'm here for th-the internship," the way he said it was more of a question, both hands wrapped around his backpack straps and his body quivering with nervousness.

What if the internship had been cancelled? What if he'd come to the wrong building? What if he-

"You're right on time Mr. Parker, why don't you take a seat while I get someone here for you."

Peter nodded, unable to respond. He moved over to a sofa and sat down.

Minutes passed and nothing happened. The panic from before was coming back, the questions about what he was doing there overwhelming him.

The elevator doors opened for the first time that Peter had been there and a stout man with grey and pepper hair emerged. He didn't look particularly happy and when his eyes cast about the room just to land on Peter, Peter sunk a little lower in his seat.

Then he started to walk over.

"Peter Parker," it was less a question than a statement of unenthusiasm.

"Happy," he held his hand out, looking anything but, "it is Mr. Happy to you."

"Y-yes sir," Peter stuttered.

His hand was shaking as he extended it.

"Relax kid," Happy ordered.

Peter smiled weakly, still a little surprised as Happy's handshake turned out to be gentle.

"Well, let's get you to your internship."

The man, Happy Peter reminded himself, just started walking and Peter had to scramble to his feet to catch up.

They entered the elevator and Peter watched as Happy used his keycard to get access to the upper floors. Level forty-nine was their destination.

They ascent was awkwardly silent, Happy back to looking less happy and Peter trying to contain his nervousness and excitement.

Finally they arrived on the floor. The door slid open and Happy stepped out. It was a hallway, nice and wide, with good lighting and a chic contemporary robotic sort of feel. They walked down it, coming to a room five doors down and on the right. Happy stopped in front of it and turned to Peter.

Happy held up a slender key card.

"This gets you in and out of the elevator and this room, that's it, don't try going into any other room or going to any other floor because it won't work."

Peter nodded his head solemnly, taking the key card as Happy held it out. The look of distrust on Happy's face was a little disquieting. Peter tried to pull the card away but Happy kept a hold of it. Finally, with a deep breath in, he relinquished it.

Pulling out his own key card, Happy opened the door. It was dark inside, but they flicked on as the two stepped in. Peter's eyes widened at the sheer amount of stuff that lay on the floors and work tables. It wasn't the largest room Peter had ever been in, about the same size as his high school woodshop, and it had four long tables running parallel with each other, on each was a large quantity of scrap metals, machinery, half-finished projects and things Peter didn't recognize.

"Well, don't get yourself killed, but if something happens just call out for help, we'll hear."

"How? Isn-" Peter started.

"Don't ask, I don't know how it works," Happy cut him off.

Peter's mouth snapped shut and he nodded his head. His eyes swept the room again and he felt his curiosity burning, mind spinning with projects and ideas and things he wanted to do. He started to slowly walk down an aisle, eyes trying to take in everything he could see.

"You can stay as long as you want, just make sure to leave before they lock the building up at nine. If you have questions, don't ask me."

With that Happy started to turn around to leave. Peter startled, eyes widening as he realized that Happy was leaving.

"W-wait, wha-what about…" Peter trailed off, uncomfortable for some reason asking where Tony Stark was.

Happy had turned back around and was looking expectantly at him. Peter shrunk a little, shoulders hunching.

"W-will Mr. Stark be here?" he asked in a small voice.

Happy actually looked like he felt bad for a moment.

"Sorry kid, Mr. Stark is busy."

With that, Happy left and the door shut. Peter stood there in the big room feeling abandoned and lonely. Sighing he wondered if maybe Flash had been right and this had been a big mistake and Mr. Stark would realize it.

Peter started to wilt under the thoughts, but then his eyes turned to the room around him. A small smile crept up. Maybe it had been a mistake, and maybe Peter would be kicked out of the internship by tomorrow, but today he had unlimited access to one of Tony Stark's workshops with no adult supervision. His smile grew as his mind started to think up ways to use something he'd just seen.

Slipping off his backpack he forgot about the bad and focused on the things he could do, the things he could create.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been over a week since the internship had started and Peter was having a lot of fun. Mr. Henning had suggested that he use the lab to make a project for the upcoming science fair and that as long as the plan was submitted before next week he might just be the winner of this years fair.

Peter had originally planned on submitting a computer program he'd been working on which would remotely power on a PC using a Wake-on-LAN protocol. Ned had been trying to convince him to do something else though, something more cool since he had an entire lab to himself.

Ned had been more disappointed than Peter upon hearing that Tony Stark didn't actually go to the internship and that Peter was on his own. However, no one else in school knew and things had taken an upturn. Girls and guys Peter knew but had never talked to were suddenly super friendly and everyone wanted to either meet Tony Stark or get his autograph.

Today Peter had left the lab early to meet up with Ned back at school, his friend had joined the Drama club, and afterwards head to Ned's house for a sleep over. In the past week he had visited the Leeds quite a bit and Ned's mom had practically declared him one of her own.

The bus ride didn't take long and soon he was back at school.

* * *

When Peter stepped into the drama club room/band room he was surprised to see that only the stage lights were on, and a few people were in the middle of the stage. The rest of the drama club was seated, watching.

Peter felt a little uncomfortable, not entirely sure what he should do, so he just stood there.

MJ was up there, standing straight and tall, her serious, emo gaze cast upon the audience.

"-and the God of the underworld, Xiabalba, spoke."

One of the other people standing on the stage threw a hand out and screamed loudly. Everyone in the audience flinched, and Peter's eyes grew wide. MJ just smiled with satisfaction.

"The man, who had already thrown himself off the bridge, was accepted into the dark torrents, his ancestry reclaiming one of their own," she finished, voice ominous and dark.

The applause was loud, but everyone looked confused, as they usually did with MJ's written performances. Peter was clapping as loudly as he could, MJ was brilliant. The girl's eyes shyly swept the room and she saw Peter. She waved and it took Peter a good second to figure out that she was waving at him. Smiling nervously, he gave a tiny wave back. By this time, Ned had noticed Peter and was waving him over.

"Hey! You got here fast! We're almost done, that was the last performance. Ms. Cardenas just needs to talk to us for a little bit," Ned said.

* * *

Peter took a seat next to his friend, feeling a little self-conscious as a few of the kids looked over at him in awe, whispers being exchanged. At least isn't wasn't a bad thing, probably all about Peter's internship with Tony Stark.

Peter's stomach fluttered as MJ took a seat next to him. Even before the internship MJ had been kind to Peter, not only that she was super cute, and so so cool, Peter didn't know a smarter cooler girl in school. Maybe she was a couple inches taller than him, but what did that matter.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," Peter said nervously in response.

He wanted to say something more but the teacher had stood up and was talking now. After Ms. Cardenas announced the schedule over the next little bit, a bake sale planned for next week, something about helping volunteer at the Winter Ball, and a discussion about what they wanted to plan for their spring performance. MJ suggested a compilation of all the best death scenes from Euripides.

When it was over, Ned and Peter walked out together.

"Dude, MJ is weird," Ned said, "But kinda cool."

Peter nodded emphatically, blushing a little. Ned eyed him strangely before an excited grin split across his face.

"You like her!? I mean like, like-like her!" Ned yelled.

"Ned!" Peter hissed, glancing about to make sure no one was listening.

Ned was grinning still, looking at his friend with barely concealed excitement. Peter flushed again, smiling as he saw that no one was around.

"She's cool," he said in defense.

"I'm not arguing with you," Ned said, still grinning as he watched Peter for his reactions.

"And she's super smart, and super pretty," Peter continued.

"You should ask her out."

Peter grew bright red, mouth snapping shut. There was no way he could ask MJ out, she would definitely turn him down and everything would be super weird. Just thinking about it was stressing him out.

"I-I couldn't," Peter replied.

They'd stepped out of the school and were headed down the steps and entryway sidewalk.

"I don't know Peter, you're pretty cool right now, I think she'd say yes. I mean, you could just tell her you'll give her an autograph or even get to meet Tony Stark!"

Peter frowned, thinking about that. He would do anything to make MJ happy, but, he wasn't sure about Ned's idea.

"I don't think she likes that kind of stuff."

Ned shrugged, "it is always worth a try."

Peter gave a nod, tucking the idea away for later. But at this point he probably wouldn't even get to meet Mr. Stark.

"Hey! There's my mom, let's go Peter, she's making spaghetti tonight!"

Peter smiled, waving at Mrs. Leeds as she rolled down her window and greeted the boys.

* * *

Tony was tired. This thing with Malkin had turned into a nightmare. It seemed that just as things were starting to quiet down a little everything got turned on its head. The man's outburst had been recorded and it had gone viral.

It had been a non-stop process to help limit the damage. Currently he had a group of people trying to get Malkin's statistics substantiated. Along with that he was increasing his already heavy handed involvement in the rebuilding of Segovia. Money wasn't what mattered, Tony would put in any expense, but he needed to make sure that his aid was being as effective as possible.

Right now though he just needed to get away. Usually he would turn to his work, but today he wanted to be far away from all of that, from everything. Instead he took to wandering his old workshops and labs, ones he hadn't necessarily abandoned. They were however on the neglected side.

Floor forty nine was one he hadn't been on in a long while. Stepping out of the elevator he meandered down the hallway, he stopped at one and almost went in when he noticed that one was in use.

Curious he walked over and opened the door. Inside the lights were on and a small hand welder was sending sparks flying into the air. Using it was a scrawny kid, the protective glasses obscuring his eyes. Tony blinked, trying to think of why some kid was in his lab and exactly how they had gotten there.

The workshop, which hadn't been used in a long time, was in the midst of a small makeover. The kid, whoever he was, had obviously been here multiple times, half the workshop cleaned up while the other half was still covered in dust.

Tony wasn't sure if he should be mad that some random kid had infiltrated Stark Tower or be amused at the apparent work that had gone into fixing up the workshop.

He took a few steps closer, deciding that amusement won out in this case.

"What do you think you're doing?" Tony asked, loud enough to be heard over the tiny welder.

The kid jumped, the welder falling out of his hands and clattering to the floor. The welder hit his hand on the way down and he let out a small cry of surprise and hurt. The boy wrenched the protective gear off and looked at Tony, eyes wide with fright and shock. He held his injured hand in one hand and stood stock still.

He was awfully scrawny, had curly blonde hair and brown eyes. Tony couldn't recall ever having met him. When he said nothing, mouth hanging open, Tony smirked.

"So, how did you get in here, kid?" he asked.

The boy's mouth moved silently, a frown of confusion crossing his face. He moved a little, obviously overwhelmed. He released his injured hand to reveal a red, oozing injury.

"I-I-I-" he stuttered, at a loss.

Tony took a few steps closer, feeling a little sorry for the kid.

"Look, I'm not mad, I just want to know how you got up here," he said, now eyeing the injury and hoping that this didn't mean another ridiculous lawsuit.

"Bu-but, I, t-the internship, and…" the boy trailed off, staring like a beaten puppy dog up at Tony.

The word 'internship' made Tony frown, something pulling at a thread of his memory. He took another step forward, eyes darting toward what the boy was working on. The boy took a fearful step back, like he thought Tony was going to kill him or something.

Tony's memory clicked and the entire internship thing came rushing back into his memory. He recalled telling Happy to toss the winner into one of his labs and to make sure he didn't kill himself or something.

Tony took a step back and massaged at his head, eyes closing. Of course he would wander into the place where the awful little high school monster was kept.

Opening his eyes he took in the terrified kid in front of him. He felt guilty, just a tiny itty bit.

"Oh, yeah, I know," Tony lied, "I meant what are you working on here."

He actually looked at what the kid was working on and was surprised by what he saw. It was an energy cell of some type, but as far as he was aware, it was an entirely original model.

"Uh-a -uh-" the boy stuttered.

"Energy cell?" Tony finished, totally not willing to sit through this kid trying to stutter out an answer.

The boy snapped his mouth shut and nodded his head.

"It's pretty impressive," Tony said, picking it up and examining it.

He actually wasn't lying. With the few scraps in this room and the fact that this kid was, well, a kid, what he had produced was pretty amazing. Tony looked at what else was on the table and was surprised to see that a set of plans sketched out on notebook paper were laying there.

Almost forgetting where he was and what he had been doing, Tony moved over and began to examine the boy's handiwork. It was simple, yet a very advanced design. Tony could see where it had been specifically curtailed based on the materials that were available in the room.

He looked up at the boy.

"I'm sorry, what was your name?" Tony asked.

"P-peter, Peter Parker," the boy responded softly.

"Alright, Peter," Tony said.

He was thinking. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to hang around, Pepper would be happy that he actually had gone to the internship and he wouldn't have to lie to her about it if she asked. That and this kid appeared to actually be pretty smart. It might actually be a decent distraction.

"How about we fix your hand and you can tell me what you've been doing."

The kid, Peter, looked surprised but he smiled a little, obviously excited.

The boy started off nervously, voice a little quiet and with a prominent stammer. Tony, as he rummaged about for some first aid materials he knew he kept around in all of his labs, asked small, promptive questions.

After a minute, the boy took off, words spouting out and his excitement and volume growing. It amused Tony, and a part of it sparked in him a reminder of the initial reason he loved building and creating.

Finally Tony located the elusive box and brought it up to the counter.

"Alright, let me see that," Tony said.

The boy held his hand up, silent once more as he watched with wide eyes as Tony began to clean the small burn and apply ointment.

"Where'd you learn all this, kid?" asked Tony.

"I-I like the library," Peter responded quietly.

"Huh, no kidding," Tony absent-mindedly replied, finishing wrapping the hand.

"There, good as new," he declared.

Peter looked up at him with that awe Tony had gotten accustomed to seeing when he was around fans.

"Alright, why don't you take me through this project of yours one more time."

The boy nodded nervously and started out again, taking Tony around the lab and explaining everything. Tony nodded, listening, keeping back his comments. When the boy finished he made his first suggestion. The kid immediately latched on, eyes widening with excitement at something he apparently hadn't considered. The words tumbled out fast and the boy was pulling over a notebook and pencil to start scribbling.

Tony almost laughed, remembering his own enthusiasm for projects at this age, and honestly even once in a blue moon now. Before he knew it he was as engrossed in what was going on as the kid.

It was almost nine at night by the time Tony was pulled back into reality by a call from Pepper.

"Ar-are you going to answer?" Peter asked.

Tony hadn't realized that Pepper was calling.

"Oh, yeah," Tony pulled his phone out but the call had already stopped.

He looked at the time.

"Wow, it's late."

The boy looked tired, and Tony realized that he probably hadn't had dinner either.

"Shit, well, have your parents been waiting?"

Peter shook his head, "I take the bus."

Tony frowned, it was a little late now for the kid to be taking the bus.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., let Happy know I need him to drive the kid home."

_"Of course."_

Peter's eyes got wide and he looked over at Tony with excitement in his eyes.

"Is th-that a user interface program?" Peter asked with awe.

Tony smirked, proud.

"Yes it is," he replied.

Peter was too awed to give a response.

"Anyways, you head home kid, you did some good work today. Maybe I'll drop by again."

With that, Tony left.

* * *

Peter got home, head in a daze. He had just spent the last two hours with Tony Stark, TONY. FREAKING. STARK. That and the man had said he might come around again. It was more than Peter could have dreamed of.

He opened the door, a smile on his face. As soon as he stepped in and shut the door he could smell the stale scent of alcohol. The tv was on and his uncle was seated on the couch with a bottle of Henessy on the coffee table, the contents half gone.

Peter stiffened, his happiness draining away at the lancing cut. He tiptoed his way over to the table and as quietly as he could started to work on homework.

"Shit!"

Peter cringed, glancing over to see that his uncle had spilled his beer. Peter went back to doing his homework.

He finished what was left of his homework pretty quickly, despite the loud sounds of the television, and started to pack up as quietly as he could. When he grabbed his textbook and brought it up from the table he was surprised to see a couple of open envelopes with the contents messily placed back inside. He didn't remember setting his textbook on them.

He frowned as he saw that two were from the apartment and there was one from the electric company. Grabbing the one on top he pulled it out and started to read. It was a late bill statement, one that was very late. Peter's frown grew, fear forming. It threatened that an eviction notice would be posted if rent wasn't made by next month.

Peter set it down, fingers burning. He picked up the next one, the one from electric, and read it. It claimed that not an entire payment had been made and that if two more payments were missed the electricity would be shut off. Peter grabbed the next one, worried about what it would say.

His uncle's hand enclosed around his upper forearm and he was violently jerked around. The letter fluttered from his grasp.

"What the hell are you doing!?"

Peter froze, unable to respond and staring up at his angry uncle in fear. Ben's eyes were bloodshot and the acrid scent of alcohol could be smelt even by Peter.

"I asked what you were doing!?" Ben screamed, giving Peter a rough shake.

His grip was painfully tight. Peter shook his head.

"No-nothing, I-I- nothing - " Peter stuttered.

Ben shook him again.

"I can pay my goddamn bills, so don't you tell me that I don't!"

"I w-wasn't uncle B-Ben, I wasn't," Peter said, desperate to get his uncle to let go.

Ben glared down at Peter.

"Don't lie to me!"

"I was-I-I-" Peter gave up speaking, tears in his eyes as he desperately shook his head back and forth, trying to get his uncle to understand.

Uncle Ben let go, stepping back and stumbling back over to the couch. Peter looked in terror at the paper on the floor and instead grabbed his backpack and scurried to his corner. Laying down he pretended to go to sleep.

Uncle Ben was rarely violent, but when he was, it terrified Peter.

He was unable to fall asleep until he saw that his uncle had passed out.

* * *

When Peter met up with Ned the next day it was all he could do to not burst and tell Ned everything that had happened yesterday. He'd met Tony Stark! And it had been the single most amazing day of his life. However, he'd arrived late, having slept a little longer than usual to avoid getting up while his uncle was up. Yesterday had been scary. He'd snuck a look at the bills again and was trying to think of how he could help.

It wasn't until lunch that they got the chance to sit down and actually talk.

"Ned, I have to tell you about what I did yesterday at the internship," Peter said, excitement leaving him jittery.

"Oh, yeah, I was thinking, you know your program you planned on using for the project, I was thinking, maybe you should talk to Mr. Henning and see if he'll let you use something you make in the lab at Stark building. I mean, you have a bunch of cool stuff there, I totally bet you could win first place and even make other cool stuff and-"

"Ned! I met Mr. Stark!" Peter interrupted Ned, who probably would've kept going on for a while.

Ned's mouth dropped open and he stared at Peter in shock. Glancing around the otherwise empty library, the librarian watching Netflix on the computer, Ned leaned in real close.

"You mean, like, Tony Stark, Iron man, the Iron Man?"

Peter nodded his head, "yeah Ned."

"Oh my God! What was he like? Does he have a cyborg arm like they said in the tabloid? And does he really smell like rosemary like Andrea Rubios said when she talked about meeting him last year? And-"

"Ned-Ned!" Peter had to interrupt Ned again.

"He doesn't smell like rosemary, at least I don't think he does. And no, his arm isn't a cyborg arm."

Ned looked a little let down at the "no cyborg arm" part, but he was still super excited.

"He looked at all my projects and he helped me with him, he's brilliant and super cool. He even helped me fix my hand."

Peter held his hand up, showing off the bandaged hand. Ned's eyes grew wide.

"You mean-" he pointed at the hand, his voice a whisper, "Tony Stark, Iron Man, touched that hand?"

Peter gave a nod, a huge grin on his face. Ned inspected it reverently, turning Peter's hand around and examining far beyond what the situation called for.

"Dude, you've totally got to tell MJ, then she will totally go out with you!" Ned declared.

Peter pulled his hand back, his excitement being partially replaced by nervousness.

"I mean, I don't think that's a good idea. Besides, I want MJ to like me for, well, me."

Ned shrugged, "yeah, I guess that makes sense. But don't even worry about it Peter, you're awesome. She'll like you."

Peter smiled in response to the surety with which Ned spoke. Ned was definitely his best friend.

"Let's go talk to Mr. Henning about the project now though, before the deadline comes up and he doesn't let you change it."

Peter gave a nod, stuffing the last of his lunch in his mouth and following Ned out. As they walked down the hall, Ned kept asking questions about Tony Stark. Things like if the man had showed up in his suit, or if all of the Avengers had been there. Peter happily indulged his friend, happy to be talking.

They passed Flash in the hall, but the boy didn't do anything, merely throwing Peter a dirty look. Ever since the internship and the incident in the cafeteria the boy had been leaving Peter alone.

Arriving at the classroom it was an easy thing to convince Mr. Henning to change the project over. The man also had a slew of questions, but his were more about the sort of materials and machinery available in Tony Starks very own workshops. Peter was happy to answer the questions and even talked a little about his project. Ned sat by, adding in his own comments and questions.

At some point lunch ended and they had to leave.

* * *

Peter went home that day by himself. There was no internship today, and Ned had to go to an event for his cousin. Something called a Debut? Peter wasn't entirely sure what it was, but Ned said it was pretty boring, despite all the food they had. Peter thought about visiting Mrs. Popova, but he knew that today was one of her doctor's appointments and she wouldn't be home until late.

As he walked down the street he thought about how much his life had changed in so little time. It really felt like things were looking up. He had a friend, he wasn't being bullied, and he'd started getting to eat more because of how much time he was spending at Ned's. Peter smiled, thinking about how awesome life was right now.

A particularly strong blast of wind had him shivering and he wrapped his arms around himself.

A small 'meow' caught his attention. A little black cat was standing a few feet away, looking up at him with bright green eyes. It took Peter a moment, but he recognized the cat as being Sasha, the cat he'd saved from a tree.

"Hi there," he said softly, waving at the cat.

Sasha meowed back.

"I'm glad you're doing okay," Peter said conversationally.

The cat said nothing, but as Peter kept walking, the cat followed. After a few minutes, the cat still hadn't stopped following Peter. Peter started to talk to the cat. He was worried, thinking about his uncle and the bills on the table.

Sasha followed him all the way home before disappearing with a loud 'meow'. Peter waved goodbye, glad to have had the company.


End file.
